Mama
by Boriqua-chan
Summary: Whatever happened to Ferb's mother? Why did she leave them? This is her story and how she reconnects with her son. rated for minor cusses
1. Starting

Some say he's just weird, what with his bright green hair and his dark brown eyes; some say he's like an animal, there to fill the blanks, not speak; some say he's just as good as Perry, quite and mysterious. But she knows who he is. She's his mother, of course. Her name is Louis Brown, Ferb's biological mother. Her brown eyes flair with anger whenever she hears her son referred to as "Phineas's older brother," or "Phineas's manual labor," or "the silent dude in the background"—he was so much more than that. She raised him, for the Big Lord's sake! Okay, so what? Maybe he _was_ sixteen now, and maybe he _never _knew that Louis existed? So _what_? Who was the one that Linda came to when Ferb did something so unlike Lawence that she didn't understand it? Who was the one that the redhead came to when Linda didn't know what to do? It wasn't Lawence; it was Louis.

Louis was the one that judged what the green-headed boy did and what it earned—whether it be a pat on the back or a week in his room. She also heard the story Lawence told him about her. She can repeat them word for word:

"_Your mother was a monster, Ferb. Don't bother asking. She left us when you were three years old." "She was killed on the street, Ferb." "She was a Mafia, Ferb. The less we knew the better." "We'll never visit her in Britain, boy, not even her gravestone. She hated us; I love her too much to disrespect her last wish: that we leave her be—that we not bother her in the dead."_

He was always a good liar. How else would he get her to buy the, _I love you_ routine he pulled with her? She never left them; she was never killed; she wasn't a Mafia; she never wished for them to leave her alone; she didn't hate them. No, none of those tall tales. She was an addict, a drug addict, a crack addict, and thus she was put in jail and rehab. But she was let out five years ago, when her boy was nine. From then on, she was the one raising Ferb. Not that Ferb knew it. But he was about to. She would make sure of it.

Raising her green curls into a ponytail and grabbing her little girl's—which was Ferb's half-sister—hand, Louis smiled.

Yes, Ferb had a half-sister. She wasn't going to lie—she'd been raped in prison by some guard whose name wasn't even mentioned and she's been impregnated. That little fetus turned into the cute little green-headed three-year-old with the brown roots and highlights holding tight onto Louis's hand. Though she hated the way the girl got here, she loved that she was there.

"Mama, why are we here?" the girl asked, a British accent layering her words cutely.

Louis smiled her charming smile at her baby girl. "To visit your brother, baby," she answered as she walked. Pride and anticipation assured her stride and kept her back ramrod strait. The girl with her mother's curls nodded and grasped Louis's hand tighter.

They'd been in America for the last three years, after Louis got out, and Brittany had inherited Louis's voice, or accent at least. The girl also had the green curls and beautiful sky-blue eyes of her mother. Brittany was her name, as aforementioned. She looked like a mini Ferb, minus the highlights and eyes. So cute.

"Mama," she whispered, "what will Big Brother Ferb think of us?"

"I don't know, Britt."

The girl nodded sadly. She wanted her big brother to like her, so, _so_ bad. She was like any three-year-old—seeking approval. And the approval of an older brother was the one thing a baby could never get enough of.

She took a step, dragging her mother along with her.


	2. Sickness

The doorbell rang. Candice moaned as the chocolate in her mug steamed. The warm vapor reached her nose and she gave a small smile. Chocolate milk was a savor when the seasons changed. She always got sick then. Wiggling her toes in her pink fuzzy-bunny slippers, she walked to the door, ready to answer the evil person who was mean enough to bother a sick, lone teenager. Mom was out shopping, Lawrence was out doing his job, and the boys were at school, leaving a sick seventeen-year-old in the big yellow house alone. The bell rang again. Candice growled and turned the knob.

The person had green hair and clear blue eyes. She was tall and had a swanlike neck. She looked like Ferb, but Candice was too ill to notice. "Hey," Candice said in a stuffy voice. A green substance was leaking out of her nose. "No one's here right now. We can't buy anything you're selling."

The woman's beautiful face twisted into a hurt scowl. "Oh, goodness, no," she said, her voice layered thickly with a British accent. "My, are you sick?"

"What does it look like, lady?" Candice swiped her robe's long sleeve over greenish face roughly, frowning because she didn't have tissues at the door. She was too preoccupied to care if she's been rude or not. Apparently, the women understood, as she was not offended in the least.

"It appears you are most sick, child," the green-haired woman worried. She reached for Candice's arm, which was still rubbing at her face, and pulled it away from the girl. Her nose was redder than before. "You need some proper care. Tell me, where is Linda?"

"Shopping," the redhead growled. She wasn't growling at the woman, but rather at herself. Her head was throbbing too hard for her to detect the fact that the woman had called her mother by her name instead of "your mother."

"Well," her British accented voice rang, "I'm sure she won't mind if I care for her only daughter; let me in, I'll make you some soup." She smiled worriedly and let herself in. There was a little hand hanging onto her red winter coat. Candice's eyes popped wide. This was something even blind people could see! The girl had bright bottle green hair, a square-ish nose, and rounded eyes—it was as if Candice was seeing one of the boys' creepy inventions that had turned Ferb into a _three-year-old girl_!

"Ferb?" Candice asked, just to be sure the boys didn't skip school and do this.

The girl's curls bounced as she jumped at the name. She pointed to herself, "My big brother! My name is Brittany," she said.

The woman dragged both girls along. She pushed the redhead to the couch, looking at the girl worriedly. Her pink lips pursed and she tapped her chin, racking her brain for information that she long ago forget. Like what Candice had—cold? fever?—and how to treat it. The girl's hands were clammy and warm, but that could've been because of the mug she was holding tightly. It was now on the coffee table.

"Brittany," the woman called to the three-year-old standing obediently at her side, "feel her forehead?" The girl nodded happily, her long highlighted curls bouncing. The small hand reached for the burning forehead. It felt nice. "Should she have chicken noodle soup?" The girl nodded, happy to be playing doctor.

And that's how it started. With a sick Candice and a cute three-year-old and Louis—trusty, trusty Louis.

A sneeze escaped Candice and Brittany. They giggled. The redhead had made room for the little girl on the couch under the blanket. Louis was watching television on the armchair. Hours had passed, Linda wasn't yet home, but Candice and Louis knew not to worry—it always happened like that. The boys were almost home, and, so far, Candice had heard nothing of Phineas converting the gym into a pool of Jell-o, which was a good sign. They got board when they were in school.

Brittany smiled at the girl that was nothing but her brother's stepsister. They were in no way related, and yet they got along as if they knew each other for their whole lives. "Candy!" she asked, azure eyes on the redhead's own navy ones. A muffled sound of question escaped Candice's stuffy face. Britt heard it. "When's Ferb getting home?"

"Ten minutes," she answered, halfway knocked out.

Louis stiffened in her chair. She hadn't seen her eldest baby in years—in most of his short life! What would he think of her? Would he have believed Lawrence's tall-tales? Would he want nothing to do with her? Would he shout and yell at her, ordering her away? Would he have a fit? Would he beg her away? Would he ignore her?

That last one was one she couldn't bare. A child ignoring his own mother? That was unheard of. But there was something worse than the things he could do to her. What worried her was what he would think of Brittany.

What would he think of his sister? Would he want nothing to do with her, saying that any child of Louis's had nothing to do with him? Would he shout profanities at Brittany? Would he order her away? Would he slap her around like an old doll? Would he hurt her in more ways than one? Would he emotionally scar her? Would he ignore her?

She couldn't stand the thought of her child being rude to her other child. She had the parental right to ground him, whether he liked it or not. She would use that right.

Louis jumped at the sound hissing of brakes. The bus was dropping off the boys. Candice kissed the top of Brittany's forehead and maneuvered her way over her, slipping on the slippers and carrying a blanket. It was cold outside and she was already sick. The redhead coughed, turning to Louis. "You want to come? They love meeting new people." That hurt. Louis wasn't a new person. Louis was the first one to know Ferb. Louis carried him for nine months—and she hadn't even looked at a cigarette during them.

"Sure."

Candice smiled as Louis lifted Brittany. The green-headed little girl rested her head on her mother's shoulder, her thumb in her mouth, sleepily. Louis pulled it out. Thumb sucking rotted and twisted teeth.

The redhead smiled, her nose red as her hair. She was feeling better, but not good. She stepped slowly towards the front door. The air was warm outside, claming her forehead. The bus was at the far end of the road. Candice led the way. Bus brakes squealed in protest as the bus stopped to let off four kids. Isabella, tall and thin, made her way out first. She smiled at the odd duo, not counting Britt.

"Hey, Candice! Watcca doin'?" she asked, not expecting an answer. It was just what she said—like "S'up" or "How's it going". Candice tried answering, but sneezed and coughed instead. Isabella smiled, getting off the bus and leaving way for Buford.

He was still bulky and short, his voice deep and rich. "Yo, Candice," he said, stomping his way past them to his house.

Baljeet was the most changed of all. He was tall, and muscular, and his voice was rich and deep; his hair was curled and soft, silky smooth. It didn't stick to his head in oil, messy clumps—instead, it flowed down by his ears, if he were to straiten it, and coiled, it was by his ears and soft, downy locks. He went in the direction of his father—and it was working for him. Baljeet, in all honestly, was rather hot now. He smiled a heartbreaking smile to Candice and, voice deep and rich as dark chocolate, said, "Hey, Candice." Candice smiled back.

Phineas was next. He was average size, shorter then Baljeet and Ferb but taller than Buford and Isabella. His hair was cropped short—he didn't feel like brushing it like he used to—and his navy eyes were big and sweet, like a three-year-old's. They were alight with the future joy of meeting the people next to his sister. "Hey!" Candice smiled at his enthusiasm.

Ferb was next. He was tallest of all. That _Buns & Thighs Master 2000_ was working for him, though why he got it was a mystery to Candice. He was, after all, naturally muscular. The Flynn sometimes wondered who was on his mother's side of the family, because it wasn't his father's side that gave him that beef. Ferb had shaggy green hair, soft and long—to his shoulders, actually, but it was so voluminous that no one noticed how long it was. He had grown into his nose. For a sixteen-year-old, he was amazingly…amazing. He nodded at Candice lovingly. Their relationship was so much better than the one he had with Phineas. But he was a boy, and getting along with your stepsister was frowned upon from the ages nine through sixteen.

Brittany bounced up and down on her mother's hip. "Mama! Mama, let me go!" She was slashing around in her arms. "Mama! Ferb's right there—let me go!" Ferb's brow creased in confusion as he stepped down off the bus. He noticed how the girl looked like he would if he were a girl. He was curious, to say the least. He was intrigued.

"Brittany!" her mother complained when the child's nails dug into her arm. "Bloody hell!" Louis dropped the girl to the ground, ready to scold her. Instead of waiting for her, Brittany attacked Ferb. She hugged on of his legs.

"Hello!" she said, giddy. "I'm Brittany! I'm your sister!"

Ferb chuckled that manly chuckle of his. His family grew up _fast_. He lifted the three-foot girl to his six-foot size. "Are you?" he asked, his voice clipped and British and low.

It wasn't hard to believe, but he wasn't going to take a three-year-old's word for it. They looked enough alike that it was _easy_ to believe. He always took shock easily, but he wouldn't take a toddler's word for it. He would just humor her.

"_Sister?_" the Flynn kids asked simultaneously.

Candice looked to Louis. "Louis?" She racked her mind for memories of that name. _Mafia… Dead… Hate… Monster…_ Those were the words her stepfather used. But this woman was nothing like that. She was kind, caring, and loving. "Louis Fletcher?"

Louis's alabaster skin flushed scarlet, wondering what kind of monster Lawrence painted her. "Guilty," she whispered.

Ferb's grip on the girl he didn't know was his sister tightened. This child needed to be kept away from that woman.

Phineas glared. "Go to hell."


	3. Tolls

I love the reviews I've been getting! So here you go.

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Navy eyes tightened even more. They couldn't stop staring at the navy eyes of his sister. How could she, of all people, she who was closest to Ferb than anyone else, bring this…this…_Mafia_ back into the green-headed boy's life? Phineas could not fathom why Candice would do this to his favorite brother? _How_ could she do this? His protective stance next to his stepbrother got more defective. This little girl in Ferb's arms needed protection from this _monster_ of a mother she had. From the monster that mother had created out of his sister.

Candice's saucer-wide eyes slowly began to shrink. How could she not have noticed this earlier? How could she not have derived a conclusion? How come when she added two and two together she came up with nine? In retrospect, it was so obvious. Why would Britt had said "brother" when she mentioned Ferb? Why would Louis have flinched when she said "new people"? What logical explanation could their be for the similarity between Ferb, Brittany, and Louis?

But how could Lawrence's story be true with Louis's soft, gentle nature? How could she belong to Mafia with those flexible ways of his, which she had shown in just the small seven hours she was with them? How could she be dead, when she was very much alive next to Candice? How could she have asked to not be bothered in the grave when, first, she wasn't dead and, second, she was evidently looking for connections with her son? How could someone so sweet and soft-spoken do anything like that?

They couldn't. Which meant one of two things: Either Lawrence had lied, or Louis was a terribly good actor.

No one could be that good an actor. It wouldn't be the first time Lawrence lied, whether or not Linda knew it. There were many times Candice had seen her stepfather flirting with, kissing, or doing _something_ to another woman. She hadn't ever told her mother; she thought she was protecting Linda and the family from what happened with her real father, Oliver, ever happening again.

Because though she was nine at the time it happened, Candice remembered all too clearly what her mother, she, and Phineas went through. The tears. The shouts. The obsession. She didn't want it to happen again. So she kept her mouth shut and went along with any explanation Lawrence could come up with. All of his intentions were kept hidden by his wondrous acting.

But they were lies. It would be nothing new if his memories of Louis Fletcher—maiden name Louis Brown—were lies as well.

In hindsight, everything that was occurring in this small episode of a day was completely and utterly expectable. So why couldn't Phineas, man of the hour when it came to logic and the expectable and the unexpected, see this as clear as Candice could? Was his judgment clouded excessively by his stepfather's stories? Could the redhead not see past Lawrence's lies? Couldn't he just see his stepfather's nose growing inch by inch now, like Pinocchio's?

Confident in her conclusion, Candice took a step to Louis. Her long arms wrapped around the green-head's slim shoulders. They seemed frail, yet strong, as if they had much more than they could handle for quite some time when they knew they would end up worse than when they started. Almost sure they would brake if she put too much pressure on them, Candice made certain her arms barely landed. Her dark blue eyes planted themselves onto Ferb's dark brown orbs. "Ferb," she coughed, her face green as his hair, "this is your mother. Talk to her."

His brown eyes stared at the woman. Brittany yawned and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Ferb smoothed down the girl's curls to be able to see past them. "Why?" he asked.

"Because she's your mother, that's—" Candice started.

"I didn't, honey," Louis interrupted. The words sounded ten times more sincere in her clipped, pained tone. "Lawrence…your father…his version of the truth is…"

"Twisted. Wrong. Bad. Not right," Candice offered.

Louis's blue eyes tightened, not with a glare, but almost as if she hated—loathed, despised, detested, reviled—telling the children this of their father figure. "Er… Yes, Candice. Please, don't help." She felt better without the words to describe her feelings and his doings. Her eyes turned to Ferb. "I did not leave."

"Liar," Phineas hissed. His eyes were tight, his glare deadly. "Dad doesn't lie! Dad's not like that! He wouldn't do that!" One could almost hear his teeth grinding.

Candice's throat tightened. Why would Phineas act like this? Why would his reaction be worse than Ferb's? She didn't like it. "Phineas—"

"Candice, why are you lying to me—to Ferb!" Ferb reached out to Phineas's shaking shoulder. He was angry enough to tremble. Candice's mother-like fear grew. She knew only of one other time he quaked. That time was the time Oliver dared put his hands on Linda. He was six then. Candice doubted he even remembered. "You're our sister—!" He cut off his own words, his mind at a lost for words that portrayed his feelings.

"Phin—"

Phineas's glare cut her off milliseconds before his words could. "Don't you 'Phineas' me, Candice! You're trying to protect this—" his eyes darted to Louis in a quick, hysteric motion, and back to Candice; his heart was beating faster than a galloping horse inside his broad chest "—this _gang-banger_ by feeding lies into Ferb's head—my head—into this little girl's head! I don't—won't—believe a word out of your mouth!" Ferb frowned at his stepbrother's outburst.

Ferb's brown eyes were full of nothing but understanding. He knew his father. He knew how good an actor he was. He knew his father like the inside of his toolbox. One never knew when he was lying; that was why Ferb distanced himself from his family. After a while, he ever grew apart from Phineas. It was painful to be considered as nothing more than manual labor by even your brother. Difficult to reminisce in the fact that even after the pretty bows and cute fake smiles, Linda was always nicer to her son than stepson; Lawrence never had much to do with him. When it came down to it, the only person who cared about him for who he was was Candice.

Would she lie to him? Would Candice betray the trust Ferb had inlayed in her? And if Candice trusted this woman—his _mother_, he tried the new word—shouldn't he trust her too? Shouldn't he?

Ferb put Brittany on his other hip and rested a hand on Phineas's shoulder. "Perhaps they speak the truth?" he muttered softly, peaceably.

"Are you—you're siding with them!"

"Phineas!" Candice scolded. "Let's go inside," she suggested. Peeping Toms were peeping out windows; Phineas's anger was drawing attention.

"No! I'm—" Navy eyes were layered in both anger and confusion. He just needed to clear his head, just think clearly for a second or two. "I'm going to Isabella's!" Before Candice could protest, Phineas was halfway down the block.

Candice's worried eyes followed after him.

"Should we follow him?" Louis asked. She hated to think that it was her presence that created this huge gap between the perfect family.

"No, Louis, no. Let him go," Candice sighed, ushering Louis and Ferb to the house. She sneezed. "I'll deal with him later. He just needs to cool off.

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This is really taking its toll on Phineas... In the next chapter (maybe) you'll see why. Remember to review.

PS: also remember that I'm not good with promises or threats.


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